


Don't Forget Your Towel

by Mara



Category: Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Crack, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 23:25:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mara/pseuds/Mara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Space is very big. Very very very big.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Forget Your Towel

Space is very big. Very very very big. Really. It's so big that you shouldn't waste too much time trying to understand how big it is. After all, the human brain has only had a few thousand years of knowing more numbers than 'one, two, many.'

Besides which, the enormity of space is pointless, since no matter how far you are from home, you're guaranteed to run into either a distant cousin or else someone who once had a torrid affair with your sister before dumping her to become one of the timeless monks of Hurdwise III.

One example of this well-known phenomenon is about to occur between two ape-descended humans on a planet known thousands of years previously to its inhabitants as 'Juniretuitet' or 'Our Home Which Is Very Large and Round.' John Sheppard of Atlantis calls it P2X 525. Arthur Dent doesn't care what it's called. He just wants to leave.

* * *

When John rounded the corner, gun ready, he was prepared for many possibilities: hostile natives with spears, Wraith, strange technology...

He was *not*, however, prepared to find a middle-aged man sitting on the dirt floor clutching what appeared to be a violently pink flowered beach towel, the kind of thing you might find on sale in October.

The man glanced up, looked at his gun and shrugged.

John frowned, unused to that particular reaction. "Hello?"

"Oh, hullo," the man said, looking at him with mild surprise. "Sorry, I'd rather assumed you were a hallucination."

"Not that I know of." John waited. "Um, I thought this planet was deserted."

"It is. Quite deserted. Desolate, even." The man sighed heavily and rested his chin on one hand.

Feeling ridiculous waving a gun, John lowered it. "Then who are you?"

"My name is Arthur Dent. And you are?"

"Col. John Sheppard, U.S. Air Force."

That got the man's attention. "U.S.? As in United States?"

John's gun came back up. "How did you know that?"

"Well, I *am* from Earth." Dent sighed and leaned back against the wall. "And I thought it was just me and Trillian."

"Trillian?" John frowned. That rang a bell. "I used to know a girl who used the nickname Trillian. Uh, Tricia McMillan, that was her name. We dated for a while."

Dent shook his head. "Of course you did. In any case, when did you last speak to Earth?"

"Yesterday. Why?"

Dent blinked. Then blinked some more. "This isn't Thursday, by any chance, is it?"

"I don't think so." John gave up any hope of understanding the man.

"That's funny. My whole universe is usually rearranged on Thursdays." Dent fussed with the towel. "You haven't heard of the Vogons, have you?"

"No. Should I?"

Dent smiled blissfully. "I think I'm going to *like* this universe."

\--end--


End file.
